


Mellark's Frosty Forest

by Jenye



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenye/pseuds/Jenye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Lieutenant Peeta Mellark is home for the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mellark's Frosty Forest

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings & happy holidays, beautifuls! I am just bringing you a quick little oneshot that I wrote for Prompts in Panem over on Tumblr. If you're looking for some holiday Everlark I recommend you run, not walk, over there right now. And never fear, Lone Star State of Mine is going to be updated soon, but the deadline for this challenge ended today so I wanted to get it out into the world. 
> 
> Quick Disclaimer: This is an AU and slight role reversal is involved. I also did not want to bother my wonderful beta with this, so I went ahead a beta-ed on my own. I know, I know. Be very afraid! I apologize for all mistakes, I did try my very best. Which is still kind of pathetic. And be warned: this is an emotional mess. Apparently I am not cut out for a life of one-shots. I try to squeeze too much into them.

   _December 2005_

The crease down the middle of the photo is more prominent than the faded colors at this point, but the memory that comes along with the frozen moment is still just as vibrant as it was the night it was taken.

Her hair is unusually flying free in the cold, New York wind and her mouth is open with laughter. His arms are wrapped tightly around her middle and the joy across his features mirror hers. The snow falling around them is light, so from the amounts sitting atop his wet curls it's obvious she had something to do with it. And she must have ran right after she did because the picture is of him just catching up with her and lifting her in the air. Not a lot, just enough that she wraps one arm around his neck and holds him tight. Neither of them are looking at the camera because neither of them seem to notice anyone — or anything — else but each other.

His time in the desert has caused his memory of the harsh winters New York has to offer to fade considerably into new complaints of temperatures hot enough to melt. The delicious smells of the holiday season have dulled and been replaced with valiant efforts from those volunteering their abilities across seas. The traditional over-the-top decorations have lost their glimmer to be taken over by Christmas lights around military barracks. And time with blood family seems like another lifetime ago while celebrating with his brothers and sisters in arms hangs fresh in his mind.

He's forgotten a lot about home, but he still remembers every detail about her. How she preferred cereal in the morning to a hot breakfast. The way her hair fell from her braid when she released the elastic. Her cynical sarcasm and how she always seemed to be the last one in on the joke. The few freckles that graced the right side of her neck and how ticklish she got whenever he'd tried to count them with his lips. How his name fell from her lips as she gripped him tight in ecstasy. Her protective nature over her little sister and all those she cared for. How stubborn she became at any sort of question in her ability. The smell of lavender and vanilla that always seemed to linger on his pillow long after she had left. How she preferred her boots and worn jeans over anything remotely elegant.

How perfect they fit in every way. It had been nearly four years, two back-to-back tours, and a quiet leave that Peeta spent away from his hometown because he wasn't sure he'd be able to leave it once he did. She deserved better. She deserved more than countless short letters and broken phone calls.

"She's beautiful," The elderly woman next to him smiles over his shoulder as she speaks, interrupting his thoughts. "And how young you both look! So lucky to find love so soon."

He glances in her direction and gives a warm smile. He knows she means well, but that doesn't stop the twinge of pain that shoots through him at her words. Love. Love, like the rest of life, used to be so easy but September 11th made all of that seem like a different lifetime. Now the only love he worked off of was for his country, his brothers and sisters in arms, and those who fell on that tragic day. Those like his oldest brother, Clement.

On September 10th, 2001 Peeta Mellark was a senior at Centennial High School. He had dreams of going to college with his girlfriend coming with. He was going to study art; something Katniss had encouraged him to do. And it was only her bravery that allowed him to check that box on the college application several months prior.

Peeta Mellark was just like any other high student in small-town New York. Well, if every other high school student's parents owned a Christmas tree farm. And thought it was excellent marketing to call it Mellark's Frosty Forest. The old wooden sign that stood proudly outside their farm was an excellent depiction of their name; snow covered Christmas trees all around with Frosty himself standing in front of them all to welcome guests.

He hadn't seen the sign for years, but he could still invision the paint chipping and obvious touch ups that appeared across the old canvas; he and his brothers had supposedly painted the sign. But Peeta knew he'd really been the only one doing the work back then. He was the one with the artistic touch, after all. At least that's what Clement would say as he silently excused himself out of the barn, not wanting to have any part of this mundane task.

Before September 11th, Peeta would have said his life was going perfectly. He planned to take the road less traveled with his life after college, as long as Katniss was there next to him. His brothers had decided on the corporate route; Reese was a real estate broker around their average sized town and Clement was worked in investments in New York City. In Tower Two.

At 8:00 a.m. on September 11th, Peeta was walking into his high school with a rather bright outlook on life. By 11:00 a.m. on September 11th, Peeta was sitting at home with his family, still frantically dialing his brother's phone number. And every time the line went straight to voicemail his stomach would drop even farther. By the end of the night, Clement had not returned home from his 30-minute commute out of the city and the numbers of those lost had practically doubled. Peeta's father had driven into the city to check the hospitals while the rest of his family sat around the television.

After that day, love and the rest of life, didn't come so easy to Peeta anymore.

"Thank you," He returns her smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Because Peeta's not sure he's truly smiled since that day.

"She must be so proud of her hero." The elderly woman continues reaching out to pat his arm just as the stewardess comes over the intercom to signal they'll be landing soon.

He's grateful for the distraction and the elderly woman next to him seems to move her focus to buckling her seatbelt and forgets about the faded picture in his hand. Peeta folds the picture by the familiar cress already created and places it back into his pocket. He glances out the small window and sees the city he loves, the city he went to war for, coming into view. His stomach goes into knots and he suddenly feels as though the plane cannot land soon enough.

* * *

He doesn't cry, he hasn't cried since that day. But seeing his dad and brother amidst the crowd of others there to welcome them home makes his chest tight. The patriotism mixed with holiday spirit among the families waiting is a sight in itself. American flags and Santa hats fill the little terminal exit. Mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, and friends alike all wait with baited anticipation. Their emotions are already riding high and by the time they finally spot their loved one the tears are streaming. It's a holiday homecoming and Peeta feels extremely fortunate. He knows others he fought with aren't as lucky.

Reese's embrace his tight around him and he knows his older brother is fighting back the very emotions he is. Peeta returns the hug after dropping his bag. He has missed his family, but all along he has felt guilty for doing so. The very reason he even enlisted to be in that desert was because of those who woke up on a normal workday and never got home. Never even had the chance to miss their loved ones.

Once his older brother finally releases him, Peeta turns to look at his father, the man who holds the very strength that Peeta tried to embrace across seas. The strength that got him through numerous family-less holidays. The strength that pulled him through on their more dangerous missions. This man is Peeta's hero and he's standing there with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I am so proud of you, Peeta." Hershel openly says as he takes his youngest son into his arms. "I have always been so proud of you."

The tears brim around his eyes, but he quickly blinks them away as he holds tightly to his father. And he suddenly can't believe he's home. That he's spent the last several years almost avoiding this very moment. He couldn't imagine walking back into his regular life without Clement there with him. But how selfish that thought process seemed now, because Peeta knows he's not the only one who felt the loss of Clement that day.

"It's good to finally have you home," His father says, as he pulls away from the emotional greeting. He smiles at his two sons and Peeta tries not to think about how it should be three. How they shouldn't even be there right now. How they should all be dealing with the crowds at their farm, racing to see who could be the fastest to cut down the customer's choice.

"Mom's making meatloaf tonight," Reese comments, leaning down to pick up Peeta's bag. "And it better still be your favorite because I'm pretty sure she's told every customer the menu for tonight for the past three weeks. I'm surprised she hasn't put an ad out in the newspaper."

"Don't speak too soon, Reese." Hershel follows behind, his arm still wrapped around Peeta's shoulder as they walk. "I haven't gotten the paper out of the box yet today, we could very well see Peeta's ugly mug on the front page."

Peeta grins, but stays quiet. So this is what he's been missing; their healing. Most probably wouldn't even know they'd lost someone important to them. But Peeta sees the cracks that still exist, that will probably always exist. His father's smile isn't near as bright and Reese's comedic relief comes slowly, if at all. But they're healing and Peeta is almost jealous because he feels as though he's been running from his grief for the last four years. He's spent his time bent on revenge, which some would argue is not an honorable pursuit, but he never cared. It was the path he needed to take. For selfish reasons, perhaps, but it still needed to be taken.

Clement had been his idol growing up and even through they were polar opposites in interests and attitude, Peeta still felt Clement was what he wanted to be when he grew up. And to have him taken away, Peeta felt cheated by the world. He instantly felt like the only victim, the only person who lost anyone. And he knows he became unbearable because of it: to his family, friends, and even to Katniss. The one person who stood by him without question. The one person who took his anger, pity, and hurt in stride. When his family or friends all but ignored him in his "bad" moments, Katniss weathered the storm. She held him when he looked so lost. She gave him space when his anger threatened to boil over. And she defended him to those who thought he was being a child.

And he hardly gave her a decent goodbye when it was time for him to leave. He'd hardly responded to any of her pursuits to stay connected. Sure, he'd write several lines on a page or talked for several minutes every other month to stay connected. But she deserved so much more. Why she stuck around with him for this long is beyond his understanding. But then again, he hadn't heard from her in nearly six months. No letters and she hadn't answered when he'd tried to call that one time around Independence Day.

Maybe she'd finally realized he was a lost cause.

The realization had stung immensely, but he couldn't blame her. It wasn't like he'd been a real boyfriend since the day Clement died. Even when he had been around before leaving for basic training he had been a shell. He'd lashed out without reason. Drank himself into oblivion on several occasions using stolen alcohol from his parents. She should have walked away then. She was too young to deal with such a heavy and distorted heart. But she was always stubborn and she was always strong. She never did anything she didn't want to.

And she didn't want to leave him.

Reese tosses Peeta's bag in the back of the old truck and it brings Peeta back to his surroundings. And as he climbs into the truck to sit between his brother and father, he wants to ask about Katniss. They live in a small enough town they'd know if she was still around. But he's also afraid to know the inevitable truth. He's not sure he handle knowing she's completely gone from his life because even though he hasn't outwardly showed anyone, he knows she's what kept him going all these years. It's been her heartfelt letters or sleepy sounding phone calls. The ones he's acted like he's not invested into, but he is. He's always been invested in her. It's funny how much one can take for granted when they try.

"We've had a pretty busy season out at the farm," Hershel says, turning down the familiar country road. "Had to hire on a few extra hands to keep up with the demand."

"That's good." Peeta smiles, but he's more invested in the snowy world around him to actually look at his father while he talks. The trees lining the old road are covered in a new layer of snow and the sky above is so blue he's sure it's a whole new shade from what he's ever seen before.

"It is." Hershel nods, falling silent.

"I think you're really going to like the new help," Reese says. His exchanged look with his father goes unnoticed by a mesmerized Peeta.

* * *

The old wooden sign looks just like he remembers, as does most of the farm. Their old farm house sitting atop the hill that makes up their small Christmas tree farm looks worn but welcoming and the barns nearby have precut trees wrapped and leaning against them for customers who aren't into the novelty of picking out their own.

Peeta leans forward as they near the small parking lot created and grins at the one change he sees hanging above the main barn. The white cloth hangs over the length of the large doors and reads 'WELCOME HOME PEETA!' in large, smudged red paint. Both his father and brother are looking at him with wide smiles as he realizes not only is there regular business happening today, but there are people there to simply see him come home.

He can't remove himself fast enough from the cab of the truck after Reese climbs out and he's walking toward his mother who has tears streaming down her cheeks. Their relationship has never been close, but even she seems to understand the weight that has been on her youngest son's shoulders since that fateful day.

"Welcome home, Peeta." She cries as she tucks herself into his arms as they tightly embrace.

Peeta's own eyes are looking around the small area. Some patrons have stopped their hustle of picking out a tree or buying a cup of warm cider inside the barn to see the person they obviously assume to be Peeta. After his mother lets him go, Peeta makes his rounds to the people he recognizes; his father's old friend, Haymitch is there with a large grin across his face. Some friends from high school have come around to greet him; Finnick, Gale, Madge, and Delly are all thrilled to see him.

Once he's made the rounds to all those who have come to welcome him home, he steps to the side and simply takes it all in. He's only partially surprised that the home he once found solace in still has its own magical appeal. He's comforted by the familiar smell of pine needles and freshly cut wood. The burning of the old stove inside the barn to try and keep some heat in the open area. Even the old barn cats that roam across the slush-covered parking lot trying to get away from the sudden commotion have their familiar comforts.

He's home. And he finally doesn't feel like running anymore.

"Rumor had it you were coming home today." A familiar voice turns him toward the pathway leading through the Christmas trees.

They're far enough away that no one else seems to notice her sudden appearance from the worn path. She's removing her work gloves and shoving them in her back pocket. Her cheeks are red with the cold and her obvious hard work. Her dark hair is tucked until a stocking cap, but the ends are twisted into the familiar braid he remembers so fondly. She looks older, slight bags under her eyes give away her lack of sleep, but her beautiful can still knock out an entire town. Her stance is strong, but not defensive when she stops in front of him. Her eyes are glittering with excitement but the rest of her features are stoic.

"Well, you stopped writing. I had to come home just to hear from you." He responds, shifting his weight from side to side. He's suddenly nervous with her presence and anxious and thrilled. It's good to know she still has the same effect on him she always has.

"Damn. I wouldn't have written you to begin with if that was all it took." She grins, her breath coming out in large clouds as she laughs.

He wants to respond and he's about to when she steps forward and places her lips on his. The kiss isn't full of passion, but promise. The kiss in light and unsure, but Peeta responds in earnest. He steps forward, closing the small space between them and resting his now cold hands against her cool cheeks. Her hands reach up and grip the camouflage material hanging loosely over his back. In that moment, like so many more with them, the only thing that exists is the two of them. Peeta knows they have so much to talk about and he has so much to apologize for, but he's just so grateful she's willing to give him that opportunity.

She's always been willing to forgive him. Just like he's always been so willing to love her.

* * *

Dinner is an animated affair and Peeta spends most of the night quietly watching those around him. The sensory overload that so many soldiers before him have talked about is a very real thing and he's simply just trying to take it all on. The Christmas decorations from floor to ceiling, the several different conversations going across the table at once, the television playing a college basketball game in another room, and Katniss' fingers quietly intertwined with his beneath the table.

Most of the night she's either been talking with Haymitch or Reese's girlfriend — a girl Peeta only slightly remembers from before he left. She's a petite girl with raven hair. She's small in stature, but if Peeta remembers correctly she's got enough spun to take down a nation. Of course, that was before he left and Reese and Johanna — he believes that to be her name — weren't even dating then. They simply knew of each other.

Every once in awhile Katniss will glance in his direction, giving him a concerned look and slightly asking if he's alright. He always squeezes her hand in reassurance. And he's being honest. He may not always be alright, but right now he is. He knows he has a lot of healing to do. A lot of demons waiting to boil over, but he's prepared to face them. Prepared in a way that he's never been before.

And once dinner is finished most move toward the living room to continue their visiting. His mother silently begins to clean up the kitchen, but he somehow convinces her to go relax. He needs the quiet and as much as he appreciates everyone's appearance for his homecoming he's ready to wash the day away. He's ready to start fresh and somehow the idea of cleaning up the dishes seems to give him a bit of peace.

He's just finishing the drying when a pair of familiar hands wrap around his middle and he feels her cheek come to rest between his shoulder blades. For a moment they just stand there, completely frozen. He's listening to her soft breathing and soaking in the heat she presses against him. A reminder that she is real and that she hasn't gone anyway. Another sign that his awful, possessed-like behavior hasn't completely scared her away for good. He hones in on the feeling of her small hands pressed against his stomach. He can feel the warm of her palms through the thin material of his Henley and he smiles at the connection. Remembering all the other times he's felt her hands against him.

"Take a walk with me?" She quietly whispers, her cheek never leaving his back and her voice vibrates the spot gently.

He nods, and places the clean plate atop the others before turning around in her arms to look down at her. Her grey eyes shine up at him and all he can see is hope. And he's reminded of how she's saved him countless times without even knowing.

* * *

Their walk leads them through several rows of Christmas trees and back toward the closed up barn before Peeta finally feels the need to say something. Allowing the memories of all his years here to subside and simply look over at the girl next to him. She's the same girl who has been next to him for as long as he can remember. Her strength so apparent just in the way she simply takes in her surroundings. She has been through so much and so much more because of him. The idea sickens him and guilt washes over him once more.

"I'm sorry." He says, knowing it's not enough. It'll never be enough.

She's walking away from him and toward the wood stove, removing her gloves to easier warm up her hands. When she looks back at him she looks almost amused. "You don't have to be sorry, Peeta. I know what it's like to lose someone you love. It's something close to insanity, I'm sure."

She's right, she does know. She knows all to well the cost of losing a loved one and the strain it puts on the rest of the family. But unlike him, she had been brave enough to stick around for it. She had a front row seat to her mother slowly sinking away and her little sister growing up without a father. She hadn't run away. Of course, she might have been too young to do so. But to this day she still hadn't ran. He would have.

He did.

Peeta follows her actions and walks toward the stove, but instead of stepping beside her to warm his hands he wraps his around her. He hugs her tightly. Places his head between her neck and shoulder and simply taking in her scent. The familiar lavender is there, but the vanilla has been replaced by something he can't place at the moment.

They simply stand there for a moment, Katniss' hands resting atop his and for the third time that day they're lost in each other. Because no trauma can seem to separate these two for long. Peeta has always known there has been a drawn to her for him. She's been his anchor from the very beginning and it didn't matter how many times he tried to cut free, she continually weighed on him in the most peaceful way possible.

"Christmas is tomorrow." Katniss finally speaks softly.

He had almost forgotten the holidays since his arrival. Even the decorations and following traffic through their little farm apparently hadn't been enough for him to put the two together. He knew that Christmas was coming; he just simply hadn't realized it was coming so soon.

"What is Santa bringing you?" Peeta asks, his lips against the bare spot behind her ear.

Her breathing has become labored with the intimate position of his lips and the rumble of his voice against her skin, "You."

* * *

How they end up back in the Mellark farmhouse and into Peeta's old bedroom is something of a blur. Once her lips attach to his he hardly has any inspiration to let them go. Even as they make their way through the darkening house — apparently their walk had lasted through the remainder of the party — Peeta would rather stumble over a discarded shoe or coat than let go of her. Their passion-driven embraces are interrupted by quiet giggles and 'shh'-ing moments and Peeta is reminded of just how it was in high school.

Her back hits his bed first and he's quick to follow after tugging off his old t-shirt. His lips attach to hers in another passionate kiss as her hands rack down the newly exposed flesh of his back. The groan it creates from Peeta doesn't nothing but spur her on and soon she's reaching between them to undo the button of his jeans. He doesn't deny her for long and pushes away from her long enough to discard them. But he soon realizes she's not playing fair and makes easy work of her sweater and jeans.

Once she's left in only her panties and bra he leans forward, placing open wet kisses against her stomach. Her skin is warm and familiar. He lets himself let lost in the sensation of his calloused hands against the smooth skin of her ribs. She's mewing beneath him and it's driving him crazy. The front clasp of her bra is the next to be undone and she arches off the bed so he can completely remove it from her.

When his lips latch on to one pert nipple she all but screams his name and has to grab a nearby pillow to cover it. He grins against her breast and uses a free hand to play with her other mound gently. He feels her hips buck against him and his hardened cock nearly ends it right there inside his boxers. Her fingers are soon wrapped around his neck, trying to find purchase in his buzzed hairs. The last time they did this he had a mop of curly blonde locks for her to grab onto, but those are no more and she moans in protest.

But soon he understands her attempts and kisses a path across her collarbone, up her jaw line and stops at her swollen lips. When he pulls away, he realizes he can really only see the gloss of her eyes in the dim moonlight from the window and she's staring up at him. There is a momentary pause before she reaches up and places her hand on his cheek and pulls him to her. Their lips connect in a quiet, slow kiss; one full of exploration and need.

"I need you." Katniss whimpers, feeling him resting against her most sensitive spot with only two thin barriers between them. "I need you to fuck me, Peeta. _Please_."

Most of their lovemaking as teenagers was careful and tender, but that is not what either of them need tonight. And Peeta has already decided this is just the first of many sessions now that he's come home for good so they'll have plenty of time — the rest of their lives if he has any say in it — to explore each other thoroughly.

He kisses her one last time before he pulls away to stand at the foot of the bed and remove his boxers before reaching down and pulling her own panties off of her. While her foot is in the air he reaches out to place a tender kiss on its arch before crawling back between her welcoming legs.

Katniss' hands come to rest against his hips while her legs open completely to allow him better access. The excitement boiling up in him is almost at its bursting point when he slowly tests her readiness for him. She's completely soaked, but he's unsure suddenly about protection. He knows he hasn't been with another, but maybe she had? The possibly makes him sick, but he'd be selfish to think his lack of communication had been enough for her for the last four years.

She must understand his pause because she leans up to press a small kiss to his lips, "It's you. It's always been you, Peeta."

And his lips attach more completely to hers as he slides home in one movement. The cry she lets out against his lips sends a thrill down his spine, but he moves slowly because she's so tight and he knows this must be slightly painful for her it its been that long. And he also knows he won't last long surrounded in her tight, glorious heat.

When he begins to move he makes his thrusts shallow and slow. His lips, like her hands, are everywhere at once. He's kisses her lips; she's grasping the neck of his neck. He's sucking on a spot near her collarbone; she's racking her nails down his shoulders. He licks behind her ear while whispering how much he loves her; she's squeezing his ass as she responds in earnest to his confessions of love.

It doesn't take long and he can feel the familiar pull at the base of his spine that tells him he's close. His pace quickens and he realizes her hips buck in time to meet his. His name rains from her lips as she pulls him into one more mind-blowing kiss before her head tips back against the mattress and she comes violently. Peeta isn't far behind as he feels her walls milk him for his orgasm. He thrusts deeply and comes with his head buried against her shoulder.

And soon, while they're peppering each other with soft kisses, their breathing starts to even out and Peeta pulls himself from her. Katniss gives a quiet groan in protest before reaching for a quilt at the foot of the bed and covering their naked bodies. Peeta only remembers one last thing before he falls asleep: both of them laughing together at how they hadn't even bothered to make it to the head of the bed before needing to savagely take each other.

Peeta wakes with a start at someone pounding on his door. He sits up quickly, only slightly disoriented before realizing where he is and _whom_ he's there with. At first he thinks he dreamt the pounding at his door until he hears it again.

"What?" Peeta grumbles, rubbing his head sleepily.

"Merry Christmas to you too, bro." Reese yells from behind the doorway, "Breakfast is ready downstairs. So hurry up, I want presents! And get dressed — I don't need to see your naked ass at the table. We'll see you downstairs."

Peeta is about to open his mouth about is brother obviously walking in on him before he woke up when he hears giggles outside that tell him Johanna is standing next to his older brother. His eyes glance over to see Katniss slowly waking up beside him.

"Mr. Mellark said he didn't get too much sleep last night — something about a loud homecoming." Johanna adds. "Merry Christmas to you too, Katniss!"

Katniss' hands cover her face as she groans. Peeta can hear their two visitors outside the door slowly making their way back down the hall and he looks over at the beautiful woman beside him. He gives a sheepish grin as her arms drop back down to her sides.

"Good morning, Beautiful." He says, leaning over to over her upper body with his as he pulls her into sweet kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Soldier." Katniss purrs back.

He knows they have a lot to work out, but as long as it all works out to him getting to do this every morning he won't mind the outcome.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HOLIDAYS BEAUTIFULS!!


End file.
